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JOHN  J.  EBERHARDT 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00022085645 


THE 

GAMMANS  POETRY 

COLLECTION 


In  Memory  of 
GEORGE  H.  GAMMANS,  II 

Class  of  1940 

First  Lieutenant  Army  Air  Corps 

Distinguished  Service  Cross 

Missing  in  Action  January  15,  1943 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA  LIBRARY 


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lioilf  vga  \o 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hil 


http://www.archive.org/details/lanesoladlandOOeber 


by 

— — *  boIiil  ill  woAarct=^ — 


To  my  Lovin'  Wife — 
'Bout  my  Laughm'  Boy- 
Jes'  for  you! 


H.  WOOD 

Chief  Illustrator 


Published  by 

The  Goldsmith- Woolard  Publishing  Co. 

Wichita,  Kansas 


Meat  lo/  d  /Allies 
l>fbi^>il5  to  mind 
1 N'  scampers  of  to  Gadoid 
llake  m/  boat"" 
W  sail  auia/  . 

~1b  life  uk2(2  little  lsb  d  Sadlana 


£fr*ftW<  " 


xrifrmaxLJxi  playful 

Mood ,  h<2  \au&h  _    f 

'N'  lompsT  arowiL'  in  QTaJ/and 

1  Iokz 1o  loaf  _ 

<$<zs   laz/l/ loiteri 

i^flon^ljte  -Latins  o  IiCidicittd 


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Copyright  1927  bg 
JOHN  J.  EBERHARDT 


1'COR WICK  -ARMSTRONG  PRESS, WICH 


JSmfrriiSaSU*- 


My 


21 


Corduroy  Breeches 

I  kept  my  mother  darnin',  kept 

her  patchin'  half  the  night 
Until,  in  desperation,  she  ex- 
claimed, "This  isn't  right! 
"I'm  gonna  be  heroic — gonna 
save  a  lot  o'  stitches." 
So  she  purchased  me   the 
toughest  kind  o' 
CORDURARY  BRITCHES. 

The  first  day  I  possessed  'em  a 
football  game  we  played 

An' — course— when  I  corned 
home  at  night,  I  looked 
tor'ed  up  an'  frayed? 

But  if  a  lickin'  has  to  come  (the 
kind  with  willow  switches) 
It  doesn't  feel  so  "burny" 
— under — 

CORDURARY  BRITCHES? 


An'  when   I'm   runnin'   races 

my  britches  make  a  noise 
That  spurs  me   on    'n'  helps 
me  win,  from  other  britches'd  boys,  'n' 
I  c'n  somersault  'n'  "rassle"  on  the  grass  er  in 
the  ditches, 

When  my  Mother's  got  me  locked  up  in  my 
CORDURARY  BRITCHES. 


On  Sunday  morn  they  dress  me  up — they  scrub 

my  hands  'n'  face — 
Put  on  a  tie — paste  down  my  hair — (I'm  usually 

"a  disgrace"?) 
But  'fore  the  day  is  half  used  up  my  body  fairly 
itches 

Fer  the  com-fer-ta-ble  feelin'  of  my 
CORDURARY  BRITCHES. 


Oh!  the  fondness  of  possession,  the  gladness  of 
t*  h  p  n  P3  r*1~ 

PARADIN'    PAST    THE    BIG    FOLKS— A- 
FEELUNP  KINDA  SMART 

You  c'd  never  buy  me  nothin' — 
with  your  pockets  full  o 
riches 

That'd  make  me  feel 
much  gooder'n  my 
CORDURARY  BRITCHES. 

— Courtesy  The  American  Magazine,  N.  Y. 


-^*" — O    -       \J<&lly*4*'-'~ 


'a  l?e  bee 
J&ttfe  i&ou  &oob. 

c)hcv  wuz  ottct  a 

jS>o  vkt  fitt&  *fc>cxf-  qoez 

ttf&o  {tab  a 


7 


I 


I 


When  a 

Wee  little  thought 
From  the 
Heart  of  a  child 
"Pops"  out— 
It  keeps — 
Us  all— 

BROAD-SMILED 


Buddy's  Prayer 


Dear  Lord — Please  make  me  a  good  little  boy 

'N  keep  me  sweet-tempered  'n  kind, 

Then    'twont   be   so   hard — when    Mother   says 

things — 
For  wee  little  me  to  mind; 
I  want  to  be — ist  Like  Daddy — I  do — 
So  grow  me  up — big  'n  strong — 
N'   I   wish't — you'd  please — keep   Donald   fr'm 

yellin' 
"  Yaall  Yaa!.f,'at  me — All — Day — long? 


v\»^lfi 


A  True  Love  Story 


I  guess  you're  too  tired  to  kiss  me  goodnight 
You  have  played  so  hard  today? 
No!  No!  Mother  Dear — I'm  not  too  tired 
I  could  kiss — to  You — all  day. 


Remorse 

My  Mother's  awful  good  to  me, 
She  never  gets  real  mad; 
I  b'leeve  I'll  hang  aroun',  till  dark, 
So's  not  to  make  her  sad. 

I  wish  I  could  contain  myself 
But  I — jes'  get — so  riled, 
When  games  of  ours  get  goin'  good 
That  I  turn — Injun  Wild? 

Dad  otta  punish  me  tonight — 
He  otta  make  me  hurt, 
'Cause  I — jes  pom — pom-pullaway'd, 
Both  sleeves  off — my  new  shirt. 


Easy? 

Ef  you  re  so  smart — jes  an- 
swer this? 

'N  make  it  short  'n  snappy — 

Is  a/at  boy  happy  because  he's 
fat 

Er  fat — because — he's  happy? 

— Courtesy  "  The  Prism." 


Griddle  Cakes  ;n  Maple  Syrup 

Said  Mother  to  Billy,  of  Griddle  cake  fame, 
"I  wouldn't  dare  let  you  eat 

Another  cake — 'cause  that  would  be 

Explosively  indiscreet?" 
'Well!  mebby  it  will  be  powerful  risky 

An'  dangerous  (as  you  say) 

But,  gimme  another — /'//  take  a  chance — 
'N you  c'n  git  out  o'  the  way?" 


Ruint 

Once  a  wee  boy  had  his  tonsils  removed 
And  when  he  "Came  to"  he  said, 
To  his  Mother — Dear — a-watching  close  by 
With  hand  on  his  feverish  head — 

"Where  am  I  at — I'd  like  to  know?" 
An'  then,  in  words  child-fluent, 

"Don't  ever  ask  me  to  swaller  again," 

"Oh,  Mother!!  I'm  jes' ruint."    " 


Spring  Fever 


Quite  often — when  I'm  studyin'  hard- 

I  ketch  myself  a-wishin' 

Th't  Ben  'n  Bill  'n  Bob  'n  me 

Were  at  the  crick — a-flshin' —  d  olf 


Temptation 


F  got  three  Aunts  that  'r  kinda  fat 
— My  Mother's  plumpish,  too — 
'N  the  way  they  dodge  real  honest  food 
Jes  laughs  me — roun'  'n  through; 
It  makes  our  Cook  jes  flghtin'  mad., 
—This  "DIET  REDUCIN'  JEST"— 
'Cause  she  can't — keep  nothin  hid — enny  more, 
F'r  meals— IN  OUR  ICE  CHEST? 


Eat  It? 

When  my  clean  face  gits  all  smeared  up, 
Ma  says,  "How  kin  you  bear  it?" 
I  say,  "Your  jam's  so  awful  good, 
I  kinda  likes  to— WEAR  IT?" 


Wealthy 


When  Ma  takes  out  a  nickel  'n  spends  it  all  on  me 

I'm  jes  's  proud  'n  happy  as  a  little  girl  c'n  be, 

It  sure  feels  fine  n'  dandy  to  walk  along — alone — 

A-holdin'  to  a    paper    bag 

of  candy— ALL  MY  OWN. 


Big  Joy 


Th'  other  night  my  Daddy  said — 

While  talkin'  to  Aunt  "Liz"— 

I  b'leeve  my  boy's  the  greatest  joy 

That  ever  wuz  or  is; 

The's  nothin'  sweeter — nothin'  cuter 

In  the  Whole  Wide  WorV 

Than  chubby-grinny-Boy  O'  Mine 

'Cept — jes — Our  Little  Girl. 


Wet  Feet 

While  Mother  doesn't  like  it — 
It  feels  "excitin'  nice" 
To  scuff  along  the  gutter 
Bustin'  through  the  crackly  ice. 


13 


Castor  Oil 


I  tried  to  take  it  (hold  it  down) 

'Cause  Mother  said  I  should 
But  when  I  said, 

"There  goes  my  Bear," 
I  did  the  best  I  could. 


I'll  never  have  a  minute's  rest, 

Nor  will  I  care  to  play 
'Til  that  Blue  Bottle  of  Caster  Oil 
"Is  broke 'd  and '  frewn  away" 

{A  big,  brown  Teddy  Bear  had  been  offered  as  a  Medicine 
bribe?) 


His  First  Haircut 

When  Bobby  had  his  hair  cut  off 

His  mother  had  to  hide 
Her  face — fer  ist  a  minute — 
(I  kinda  think  she  cried?) 
I  saw  her  kiss  his  dimpled  knee 
'N' — nen  I  heard  her  say, 
"I'm  ist  'bout  broken  hearted" 
"  'Cause  my  Baby's  growd  away." 

— Insurance  Field. 


The  Reason 

Saucy  little  dandelion 
Grows — 'n  grows — 'n  grows — 
So  that  little  girl  can  wear  a 
Butter  Yellow  Nose. 


Friendly 


Three  little  freckles  'n  a  sunburn 
Snoopin'  down  our  street 
When  my  little  girl  comes  home  tonight 
They'll  be  on  her  hands  'n  feet. 


Perpetual  Motion 

When  my  little  girl  with  cheeks  aglow 
Comes  romping  home  from  town, 
She  Hippety-Hoppeties  up  the  hill 
And  she  Hippety-Hoppeties  down; 
And  when  I  say  to  my  little  boy, 
"I  have  an  errand  for  you" 
He  says,  "ALL  RIGHT,"  then  he 

hippety-hops 
Till  he  Hippety-Hopps  it  through. 

— Bookfellows  Anthology,  1926. 


The  Play  Band 

Gimme  the  bell — said  little  "C.  C," 

An'  you  play  you're  the  singer, 

An'  you  play  the  horn, 

An'  you  play  the  drum, 

An'  Til  be  the  Big  Ding  Dinger. 

Then    'round   n'    'round   the   room   we'll 

march, 
An'  make  the  loudest  noises, 
'Cause — Mother  claims 
Th't  racket  was  grow'd 
Fer  wee  little  girls  an'  boyses. 

— The  Insurance  Magazine. 


16 


His  First  Love? 

Each  year  they  giv  me  dolls  galore 
Till  I  don't  never  want  no  more 
But  of  all — the  Dolls — of  East  er  West 
I  still  luv  "Humty  Dumty"  best. 

He  lets  me  talk  'n  Sing  'n  Play 
'N  never  has  a  thing  to  say. 
He's  soft  'n  Chummier  'n  the  rest 
That's  why — I  s'pose — I  love  him  best. 

He's  jes  a  homemade  stockin'  toy 
But  Say!  he  suits  this  little  boy 
An'  while  one  leg's  wored  off,  right  there, 
Th'  ain't  no  better  "pal"  nowhere. 

At  night  when  Mother  tucks  me  in, 
She  sez:  "Now,  w'en  your  dreams  begin, 
W'ich  chum  d'you  want?"  I  say:  "O  jest 
Throw  me  oP  Humty,  he's  The  Best." 

(He  was  used  so  affectionately  and  constantly  for  pillow, 
bedmate  and  footrest  that  now — says  Humty  Dumty — "I'm 
all  wored  out  with  love.") 


The  Highwayman 

Jes'  look  at  sassy  sparrow 
A-bobbin'  all  around 
A-pesterin'  up  a  robin 
Who's  peckin'  at  the  ground. 
Each  time  the  Robin  Redbreast 
Pulls  out  a  wigglin'  worm 
The  sparrow  steals  a  "snatch  bite" 
Of  breakfast,  all  a-squirm. 


17 


When 
God 

.    Made 

He 
Made 

?oi'%ynwl£$ 

316 
/Trees 


The  New  Hammer 


I'm  the  Little  Boy  Bad  who  lives — guess  you 

know — 
In  that  new  little — white  little — Bungalow. 
My  Mother — she's  ist  bin  scoldin'  me  hard, 
She  has — right  out  in  our  own  front  yard, 
But  Daddy,  he  grinned  n'  patted  my  head 
N'  he  holded  Ma's  hand — n-n-nen  earnestly  said: 
"By  Golly!  he  suits  me — he  s  full  o'  Pep." 

I  'ist  drove  six  nails  in  our  front  door  step? 


19 


Circumstantial  Evidence 

There  stood — "Wee  Wee" — with  chocolate 

tracks 
All  over  her  cheeks  'n  nose, 
Said  her  Mother: 
"Merpy!!" 

"Where  do  you  'spose" 
"So  much  of  our  candy — goes??" 

This  truthfully  trustful  answer  came  back — 

In  wrinkledy  brow  delay — 

"I  don't — 

Believe — 

I  hardly — know — 

"Guess  the  vind — must  o'  blow'd  it  avay?" 

'N  little  "Wee  Wee" — was  quite  very  old 

Before  she  learned  to  know 

Why  her  mother 

Had  hugged  her 

So  quivering  close 

For— "IMAGINATIONING"  SO. 


"Mother  Dear" 

My  love  fer  you  is  's  deep  's  a  well — 
It  isn't  FER  TRADE  'n  it  isn't  TO  SELL- 
It'd  pop  right  out  of  a  pumpkin  shell — 
Fer  I  love  you  more  th'n  tongue  c'n  tell. 


Our  Minister's  Boy's 
Ambition 

I'M  got  a  chum 

Who's  gonna  be 

THE  PRESIDENT— ef  he  can 

But  when  VM  big 

I  want  to  be 

The  one  legged  popcorn  man. 


The  Expert 

My  Gram'pa  's  sure  a  knowin'  chum, 

He  'predates  my  joys, 

I  'bleeve  he  knows  's  much  's  I  do — 
'Bout — Little — Boys — ? 

Sometimes  I  look  right  in  his  eyes 

Without — even — blinkin' 

N'  nen  he  tells  me — Honestly!!! 

The  things — I — bin  thinkin'? 

N'  ever'  now  n'  then  he  says: 
'I  see  you're  one  o'  those" 
'Who  c'n  wash  y'r  face  three  times  a  day" 
'N-n-n-n-n  never  WET  y'r  nose." 


Moods 


My  Daddy's  good  enough  by  day, 
Fer  that's  the  time  of  boisterous  play, 


^r" 


-  -  -  BUT  -  -  - 

When  evenin'  comes — somehow  er  other- 
I  ALWAYS— KINDA— WANTS  MY 
MOTHER? 


23 


5A>  Yellin'  Happy 

Q*  coui^e  lm  ijelliri  happy. 

ft  lit"  U)fidf~do  X  nQ&tr  ? 
'Kids  oikrr  £if""c2xc7fed 

Mv/  nervos  >  piauiri Tczapfto<j> 

1  _  f(2UEl_  QU3fJT_qii(Z(2r_ 

_  La    one    moi'g^  dcMvk/_ 
"Ec, . _  CkiSktim.M<2#<2  _ 


24 


What  I'd  Do 


I  sometimes  wisht  that  I  wuz  my  Ma; 
You  betcha  I'd  know  what  to  do 
Ef  my  little  girl — corned  home — real  late, 
A-wearin'  one  stockin' — one  shoe. 


I  wouldn't  care — much — how  dirty  she  wuz- 
Ner — notice  the  jagged  ol'  rip 
That  made  a  big  flap  on  her  bran  new  dress 
Reach  clear  to  a  quiverin'  lip: 


Ef  she  slammed  the  door,  n'  rushed  right  in, 
With  mussedy  uppedy  hair — 

N'  it  hurted  clear  down  to  the  Deep  0'  My  Hearty 
I'd  p'tend — I  didn'  care. 


Do  y'  think  I  would — well — I  jes'  wouldn' 
Take  her  to  task — er  scold  her. 
I'd  brush  all  the  stockin's  n'  mendin'  right  off" 
O'  My  Lap — so's  I  could  hold  her. 


N'  I  wouldn't  speak  o'  the  Lateness  o'  Time, 
I'd  think — jes  how  I'd  miss  her — 

-%>        :£        ^c        4s        4*        ♦ 

Ef  it  happened — she  never — corned — home— at — all 


N'  I'd  grab  her— n'  hug  her— n'  KISS  HER. 

— Braithwaite'  s  Anthology  of  Magazine  Verse,  1926. 


25 


Our  New  Minister 


When  he  came  to  our  house — th'  other  day- 
We  children — all — ist  runned  away, 
'Cause  we  don't  like  to  hafta  be 
Asked  questions — by  "Company"! 


But  soon  our  hunger  herded  us  back, 
Prepared — n'  eager — to  dodge  the  attack; 
N'  all  of  us — had — the  biggest  su'prise 
When  he — "turned  on" — his  two  big  eyes. 


'Cause — c'n  you  believe  it? — the  stories  he  told 
Ist  happened  to  be  our  own  years  old? 
He  even — could  tell — 'bout  "Swimmin'  Holes" 
N'  didn't  say  nothin'  'bout  savin'  our  souls. 


Why — he  never  hinted  at  nothin'  we  hate 
To  hear  about  (like  stayin'  up  late?) 
N'  purty  soon  we  wuz  listenin'  hard — 
He'd  ketched  us,  all — clean  offn'  our  guard. 


N'  I  reckon  he  knew  it — too — fer  his  eyes 
Ist  twinkled  n'  sparkled — a-showin'  how  wise 
A  Preacher  c'n  be — a-findin'  the  way 
To  a  little  boy's  heart — 'thout  haffin'  to  pray. 


An'  when  he  drove  off — the  werry  next  day, 
My  Mother — she  laughed — a-hearin'  me  say: 
"Why,  he  c'n  tell  stories  ist  great — he  can," 
"He  ain't  a  real  Preacher,  he's  a 
REAL  MAN." 


26 


Playmates 


Said  sweet  little  Mary 

To  Grandmother  Dear, 
"I  like  you!  I  love  you! 

I'm  glad  you're  right  here." 
"Mos'  all  o'  my  playmates 

Seem  older  'n  me 

'N  somehow  we  can't 

Jes'  always  agree." 
"But  G'amma — when  I — 

Stand  pattin'  y'r  knee 

I  bubble  all  over 

With  comf  table  glee." 
"  'N  I  love  you  a  million  times 

Gooder  n'  gold 

'Cause  you're  jes  e'zactly 

My  own  years  old." 


BigO 


nes,  loo 


I'd  like  to  be  a  Elephant 
Paradin'  up  the  street 
A-gettin'  all  the  softness  comin' 
Up  through  four  bare  feet. 


Obeg— "Instantly?" 

I  couldn't  drop  my  chalk  n'  come 
Down  stairs  "this  very  Minute1' 
Fer  my  policeman's  trouser  leg 
Was  draw'd — with  nothin   in  it. 

He'd  "  'rest"  me  fer  neglect — er — p'rhaps 
He'd  say — "Here!  Little  Sinner," 
Don't  leave  me  standin'  on  one  leg" 
While  you  re  a-eatin'  dinner." 

I  tell  you  little  boyses  have 

Big  troubles  of  their  own" 

So,  when  you  feel  like  scoldin'  em? 

Well — you 

Jes'  leave  'em  'lone? 


The  Old  Sandpile 

— American  Magazine 


Winter 

Wen  my  room's  icy  cold  an'  I  dive  in,  a-lone, 
To  a  fluffy  featherbed  Mother  buyed  me  fer  my 

own, 
I  jes'  roll  up  in  a  little  j at  ball 
'N'  I  ain't  a  bit  cold,  purty  soon — atall. 


oummer 

Ma  makes  me  wear  Pajamas? 
Well!  That's  a'wright!  But — Shaw!! 
At  times — when  she  ain't  lookin' — 
I  jes  jump  right  in — Raw. 

—  The  Step  Ladder. 


29 


Chummates 

Me  n'  "Rove"  jes'  love  to  roam — 
That's  lots  gooder'n  stayin'  home; 
Mighty  comfertin'  to  be 
Rompin'  playmates — him  n'  me. 

Ef  you've  got  a  friend  who'll  do 
Almost  enny  thing  fer  you 
Then  you'll  know  how  good  it  feels 
To  have  a  dog  right  at  your  heels. 

'Member  well  when  Mother  died — 
Rover  stayed  right  by  my  side, 
Wagged  his  tail  n'  rubbed  my  knee — 
Showin' — human — sympathy. 

Friends  tried  awf'lly  hard  to  say 
Things  to  brush  my  tears  away; 
But  Rover  sat  with  tilted  head 
'N  whimpered  more  than  all  they  said. 

I  ist  grabbed  him — hugged  him  tight, 
Nen  runned  away — clean  out  o'  sight. 
Somepin'  moved,  clost  by  my  side 
N'  licked  my  hand — (n-n-nen — we — 
cried — ) 


3° 


His  big  eyes  were  full  o'  love 
As  twinkles  'round  the  stars  above; 
Never  know'd — until  that  day — 
How  much  a  dog  could  "look  n   say." 

Betcher  life  the'  ain't  no  man 
Kin  love  a  boy  like  Rover  can; 
Hope  your  boy  knows  how  it  feels 
To  have  a  chumdog  chew  his  heels. 

— Oregon  Teachers  Monthly. 


31 


lation 


.onso 


Sometimes  Ma  makes  me  go  to  bed — fer  bein' 

kinda  bad?? 
But    somehow — I    don'no   jes'    why — it    never 

makes  me  mad!! 
I  guess  it's  'cause — when  room  gits  dark — I  peep 

way  out  n'  see 
A  million  little  Sparkle  Bugs  a-twinklin'  stars 

at  me; 
They    "flashlight    up"    my   little   mind,    then, 

thoughts  n'  pictures  great 
Make  up  fer  pleasures  lost,  because — I  couldn't 

stay  up  late?? 
N'  while  I  miss  my  Mother's  kisses — miss  her 

lovin'  hugs 
I'm  thankful  that  no  one  kin  "turn — the  lights 

off" — Lightning  Bugs. 


Busy  Hands 


I  washed  'em  both  at  half  past  five 
An'  now  'tis  but  six-thirty — 

?  HOW  ?  f&P  > 

?  In  an  Hour   ? 
?  Can  one  Little  Boy   ? 
?  Get  two  little  hands  so  dirty? 

32 


Jbolors  JL  e) 


ansa  t. 


.in  sorr/ 
f(2p  ^ggL  ®JK  lad    , 
ore- moli1  iS&fe.  onH' ra- 
il always  bp/^^^"liiir(spic  ft  spanj 

^ax only  wife  ley 

.  'tf  rajfd  ^^^^^1lJSK,lflioiiis 
■iltG  ^Q^lfefej  o'  <£ood  rick  nrad 
HooziitllnoicSk  kifloes? 


33 


Rebellion 


My  Mother's  quite  pernickety — 
The'  ain't  no  time  er  place — 
She  thinks — fer  Bill  er  Bob  er  me 
To  have  a  dirty  face. 

But  Bad's  a  "Reg'lar  Feller" — 
He  b'longs  to  my  own  race, 
So  fur's  he's  concerned — he  says 
"Dirt — don't — bring  no  disgrace." 

I  hate  to  waste  good  playin'  time 
A-scrubbin'  face  'n  fists, 
N'  I  jes'  wish  they'd  stop  discoverin' 
Rings  around  my  wrists? 

But — say!!!  when  I  gits  grow'd  up 
(I  kinda  half  suspec') 
No  little  boy  o'  mine  '11  ever 
Hafta  wash  his  neck. 

Folks  must  o'  bin  lots  diff'rent 
Er  Daddy's  memory's  bad — 
When  tellin'  'bout  the  things  he  did 
When  he  wuz  jes'  a  lad. 

'Cause:  ain't  no  boys  I  knows  of — 
So  fer  's  I  c'n  see — 
That's  livin'  up  to  expectations, 
Daddy  has  on  me? 

I  know  'em  all,  in  this  here  town, 
There's  some  mistake — because 
The'  ain't  no  kinda  boys  'round  here 
LIKE  DADDY  SAYS  HE  WAS. 

34 


Fingerprints 

I  saw — yesternight — what  you'd  love  to  see — 

Right  there — on  your  front  stair  wall? 

'N  while  they  might  pester  some  folks  mos'  to 

death 
They  didn't  "mad  me  up" — at  all. 


Fer  I  love  the  wee  FOOTPRINTS  that  wabble 

across 
The  front  porch — the  yard — 'er  the  rugs — 
And  as— fer  the— FINGERPRINTS— there  on 

your  wall, 
They're  tickets — fer  kisses  'n  hugs. 


I  said — as  I  spied  'em — "God  Bless  'em"  (your 

boys)> 
They  were  up  stairs  "goin'  to  sleep"? 

But  I  knew — from  the  static  a-fillin'  the  rooms? 

Their  "sleep  thoughts"  were  hardly  knee  deep. 


Thought  I — to  myself — I  pray  that  real  soon 

That  great,  big,  Hulk  of  a  Dad? 

May  come  home — Play  clown — 

May  rough  house  aroun' 

With  wee  ones — "Wantin'  him — Bad." 

{To  the  Daddy  of  "Three  Little  Brother  Boys" — up  at 
Mayo's.) 


35 


They  wuz  Bakin'  'n'  Fryin' 

'n'  "Cookyin',"  too, 
N'  I  wuz  thist  watchin'  'em 

(wantin'  to  chew — 
'Cause   chillens   mos'   alius 

get  eager  to  eat 
When  things  begin  smellin' 

up — cookin'  up — sweet?). 

I   said    to   my   G'amma,  I 
kinda  believe 

When  Santa  Claus  comes — 
on  Christmas  eve — 

He'll   be  'bout  's   hungry's 
you  would  be 

Ef  you'd  —  droved    Rein- 
deers— far  as  he 

A-happyin'  up — wee  girlies 
n'  boys 

A-givin'    'em   popcorn — 
candy — n'  toys, 


36 


Not  stoppin'  fer  nothin' — 'cept  jes  fer  to  peep 
At  children — excited — all  dreamful  0'  sleep. 

'Nen  I  added:  Please  cut  off — a  piece  of  that  dough 

And  make  a  few  cookies  fer  Santy — to  show 

That  one  little  friend — a-livin'  out  West — 

Knows  jes'  what'll  fit  his  appetite  best? 

So  my  G'amma,  she  maded  some  crisp  cookies,  small, 

N'  the  dough  wasn't  missed  (that  we  borrowed)  at  all; 

It's  funny  whenever  you  do  what  you  should 

Th't you  never  miss  nothin  you  use — "DOIN'  GOOD." 

N'  I  said  to  the  cookies — a-pattin'  'm  sweet, 
"WHO 
DO  YOU  STOSE 
YOU'RE  GONNA  MEET?" 
"You're  the  luckiest  cookies  that  ever  grew — 
I  wish — tonight — th't  I  c'd  be  you." 
'Nen  I  packed  'em  all  in  my  little  tin  cup 
'N  when  Santa  Claus  corned— HE  EATED  'EM  UP? 
So  you  needn't  tell  me — th't  he  never  comes 
'Cause  we  couldn't — find  nothin' — 
— Nex'  day — 

BUT  THE  CRUMBS. 

— The  Kansas  City  Star. 

37 


Table  Habits 

Our  Daddy — grabs  fer  the  daily  paper 
Then  settles  down  n'  reads 
'N  Ma  she  sputters  'cause  Benjamin  Franklin 
Swallers  the  cherry  seeds. 

'N  Billy — our  boy  o'  "Big  bite"  fame 
P'tends  to  dodge  Ma's  frown 
When  she  ketches  him  drinkin'  water 
To  "Swash"  his  food  jams  down? 

When  Dorothy — gets  forgetful 

She  rests  her  chin  on  her  hands; 

But  jes  why  Jimmy  does  ^wr'thing  wrong 

Nobody  understands. 

The's  one  thing — inexcusable 
'N  it — sure — makes — Ma — sore, 
It's  when  I  scrape  all  the  crumbs  I  make 
Right  off — on  the  clean  swept  floor. 

We  try — awful  hard — to  carry  out — 
The  "Orders"  we  git — but  shaw!!! 
The's  a  funny  thing — 'bout  our  house 
We'  <z//got  "HABITS"— but  Ma? 


38 


Wow!! 

You  can't  fool  me 

This  teachin'  bizz 

Is  hazardous,  it  is, 
'Cause  onc't  Our  Teacher 
'Talked  so  much" 

She  ketched  the  RHEUMATIZ. 


I  Wish 

Sometimes  when  I'm  bin  bad — as  bad— 

As  only  boys  kin  be 

My  Ma  she  hasta — but  she  hatesta — 

UP  an'  scold  at  me; 

An'  nen  I  wish  this  wicked  wish 

(I  know  it  isn't  nice) 

But,  jes  to  SCARE  her  thoughts  away, 

I  wish  I  wuzz  a  MICE?? 


39 


V-xirious 

She  was  little, 
Her  eyes  were  big^ 
And  her  mind  was  full  of  doubt; 
She  asked  all  kinds  of  questions 
'Cause  her  thoughts  were  all  a-sprout. 
"I  can't — exactly — understand — " 
"How  the  days  keep  twistin'  about??" 
"NEX'  SUNDAY  comes  so  often— now— : 
"Have  they  taken" 
"  Something — out??  " 


Our  Little  Gum  Chewer 

She  was  hippety  hoppeting — down  the  street 

Humming  the  happiest  hum? 
"Where  are  you  going?"  said  I — Said  she: 
"I'm  do'na — det — some  dum." 


4° 


I  ff  OP/)!    • 


Radi 


10 


At  times — when  I'm  a-feelin'  smart, 
'N'  think  I  will  'er  won't, 
Ma's  eyes  tell  me  jes'  what  to  do 
'N-n-n-n  tell  me  what  to  don't. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  jes  wont  mind 
'N'  I  pertend  to  cry — 
But  say! — I  get  real  gentle 
When  I  ketch — Mother's — Eye? 
The'  ain't  no  doubt — 'bout  her  thoughts 
I  read  'em — jes  like  books — 
She  doesn't  even  hafta  talk 
'Cause  when  she  looks,  she  looks. 


41 


Smarty? 


^o 


Th'    other    night    ol'    Billie    Smart    was    mean 

enough  to  say: 
(Without  no  provocation — in  a  real  sarcastic  way) 
That  little  chillens  "had  no  sense" — 'n'  he  said 

it  just  because 
He  knew  I  bleeved,  with  all 
my  heart,  in  Good  Old 
Santa  Claus. 
I  know  I'm  not  so  awful  big 
— but    I    kin    read    'n 
write, 
'N'  I've  got  just  'nuff  smart- 
ness to  know  when  I  am 
right. 
So  I'll  hang  on  to  my  idees 
'n'    he   kin    stick    to 
his. 

I    bleeve   there  IS  a 
SANTA  CLAUS, 
Because    I    bleeve 
there  IS. 

Ef  Billie  "Smarty"  knows 
so  much  about  the 
things  he  knows 

I  wisht  he'd  tell  me  how  'n 
the  world  the  little  vio- 
let grows? 

'N'  how  his  heart  keeps 
beatin'  on  when  he's 
asleep  at  night? 

'N'  why  the  strongest  kind  o' 

'TAINT'"  ^e  can>t:  "blow  out" 

bright  star  light  ? 


I   know  some  things  when   I   know  'em — 'n'   I 

know  'em  all  by  heart, 
(Still  I  don't  make  no  housetop  claims  'bout  bein' 
extra  smart) 
So  I've  got  my  own  idees,  'n'  Billie  Smart  has  his 
I  still  believe  there's  a  Santa  Claus 
Because  I  believe  there  is. 


He  says:  This  big  ol'  World 
of  ours  is  flat — it  isn't 
round  ? 

That  when  the  moon  comes 
up  at  night  it  busts 
right  thru  the  ground? 

He  knows  the'  ain't  no 
Fairies — says  the'  nev- 
er was  a  Sprite? 

BUT  YOU  NER  HIM 
NER  NO  ONE  ELSE 
KIN  MAKE  ME 
BLEEVE  HE'S 
RIGHT 

So  Bill  kin  keep  on  bleevin' 
just  what  he  wants  to 
bleeve 

'Bout  good  old  Santa — 
"GOLDEN  RULIN' 
'ROUND"  on  Christ- 
Eve. 

'N'  when  he  yells  at  me — 
"TAINT  SO!"  You 
bet  I  sass  back — "TisJ" 
'Cause  I  know  there  is  a 
Santa      Claus  —  be- 
cause, well 
'CAUSE  THERE  IS. 

— Powergrams. 


«  'TPTC  i>» 


TIS 


Forecast 

ty/e/z  the  afoy  *&  c/arr* 

(y  S/aC/xz.  Sonars  6 '  aw/rucss  my cfaecrms  ~jfc  afes/roy, 
SRoY&c/s  s/n/lc  yoc&  ctoxry 
a  (Peruse -$ay3  ene.1   yfr/s-t/ay 

tye//  Wa&/e  or  /oti~  of  dctf/e/iicr  on.  oi"~ 

Wen  -/&  <Su/2.  JbetA*  /&- 

flLW^A/W^W/-  a/*  c£vc/?fv//  of/oy 
<fo/m  1foey  S/xt/Zc  crab  s&y 
€/it//'/xy)x/o/-  tine  c/ary^ 
c/netf  or/tLGrs  A>  oz//-  ALO/rxe  ova  //titff 

■■«    mmmmmfwmm     mmmmmf 


44 


Excitement 

They  were  bubblin'  all  over 

With  laughter  an'  fun: 

Why  shouldn't  they  show  their  joys? 

They  were  headed  for  school — 

'Twas  rainin' — some— 

An'  they  were  the  "Dinner  Pail"  boys. 


Be  Patient 

If  Mother  only  knew  how  much — 
Her  grouchin'  scoldin's  hurt  us 
I  know  she'd  spend  a  heap  more  time — 
A-schemin'  to — divert  us. 

O'  course  she  squanders  hours  n'  hours 
A-slavin' — hard — to  serve  us — 
An' — I  suppose,  our  noisy  play 
Does — make  her — kinda  nervous? 
But,  here's  the  question:  Was  it  right 
To  punish  playful  Mary 
Jes'  'cause  Bill  riled — Ma's  temper  up 
A-bein' — plain — contrary  ? 

You  bet  I'd  think  at  least  three  times 
Before  I'd  BUST  OUT  SCOLDIN', 
When  jes' — 'bout  all — most  children  need 
Is— lots  more— LOVETIGHT  HOLDIN'. 


45 


^^of/ProMe^ 


1  dcfto  idighz  m^1nin6x  all  &o  ? 
"InG^  Keep  m©  liirnte.  Iri&lt  V  loai. 

\4n!  noui  ITiVil  (2nn/iDli(2re  ?? 


46 


0Offl(3im<2K  ly<2ll:~ 
Ma  !'.  tunei^s  to/lidf"?' 
#  V       ©ays  si©:- 

'N'Hnen  I  dafffapouiT  iant  more 

^^       4foor  ?? 


— 7^<?  Rotarian 

47 


The  Story  Teller 


Our  Uncle  Dave  was  a  soldier — onct — an'  he  had  the 

scardest  way 
Of  tellin'  'bout  the  Civil  War — excitin'??  I  should  say! 
We  chillens  always  stood  aroun'  an'  teased  for  stories  new 
'N  when  he  telled  'em  we  jes'  wisht  he  never  would  git 

through. 

He'd  tell  us  'bout  big  elephants  a-crashin'  through  the  trees 
N'-n-n-nothin'  'cept  the  Dinner  Bell  could  drag  us  off  his 

knees. 
When  grown-ups  "listened  in"  they'd  laugh — because  he'd 

BULGE  our  eyes 
"Inflatin'  up"  his  stories  jes'  to  see  our  wild  su 'prise. 

An'  when  he  pictured  flocks  of  ghosts  a-snoopin'  all  around 
We'd  hold  our  breath,  an'  grab  our  ears;  an'  never  make 

a  sound; 
But  when  his  little  fairies  came  a-glidin'  through  the  air, 
We'd  grin  an'  be  plum  happy — absorbin'  wonders  there. 


His  explanations,  tales  n'  rhymes,  were  all  in  children's 

tongue 
So,  'course  we  loved  Our  Uncle  Dave,  whose  eyes  were 

always  young. 
He  never  telled  much  'bout  hisself  but,  onct,  I  heard  him 

say: 
(A-talkin'  to  a  COMRADE,  in  his  unassumin'  way) 

"I'd  druther  hold  small  children's  love  an'  have  'em  want 

me  'roun' 
"Than  to  be  a  King  a-holdin'  to  his  sparklin'  diamond 

crown," 
"Ef  I  were  rich  as  Old  Man  Gold  you  bet  I'd  sprinkle  joys" 
"All  over  the  Land  0'  Longin',  for  poor  little  girls  and 

boys." 

But,  even  so,  Our  Uncle  Dave  gave  pleasures  better'n  gold 
They  came  in  endless  favors,  in  the  form  of  stories  told. 
'N  I  bet  they's  a  host  of  Angels — now  a-huddlin'  'round 

his  knees, 
A-sayin' — kinda  pleadin'  like — "Wontcha  tell  us  another, 

please?" 

When  a  feller  makes  up  Stories  Big,  fer  the  joy  O'  Folkses 

Small 
He  earns  a  place  in  Heaven  jes  about  the  best  of  all. 
Fer  stories  good — ef  planted  right — keep  growin'  on  forever, 
??Do  Chillens  soon  forget  'em?? 
Never, 

Never, 

NEVER. 


49 


Excerpts  from 


By 
JOHN  J.  EBERHARDT 


U 


The  Poet  o'  the  Plains" 


The  Real  Wigwam 
of  the  Plains 


We  have  crushed  the  Warrior's  Spirit — 
Confiscated  home  and  all, 
We  have  changed  his  fields  of  battle — 
Into  farms,  some  large,  some  small, 
Yet  in  memory  of  the  Indian 
In  each  field  there  still  remains 
True  to  life — in  size  and  outline — 
THE  REAL  WIGWAM  OF  THE  PLAINS. 

— Topeka  Capital. 


52 


"Cripple'  Joe" 


{Written  at  the  suggestion  of  Isis  Temple's  Potentate,  for 
the  Shriners'  Hospitals) 
I  useta  git — a — heap  o'  joy, 
Jes'  watchin — children  play 
But  when  the  kids  were  all  in  school 
The'  was  no  other  way — 
I  had  to — make  up — playmates 
And  games  of  ever'  kind — 
But  I'd  git — -orful  lonesome 
Jes'  playin'— IN  MY  MIND. 

Some    rainy    days    were    long's    weeks — 'n' — some    were 

long's  years 
Especially — when  I  ketched  Ma — a-hidin'  burny  tears. 
But  one  day  Doctor  Bigboy — spied  me — in  my  wheel  chair; 
He  stopped  'n'  asked  some  questions,  then  said:  "Say! 

would  you  care." 

"My  boy,  to  let  me  help  you?? — might  hurt  you — jes'  a 

mite?? 
"I'll    take    you    to    our    Hospital" — n-n-n    I    piped    up: 

"dw  right!" 
"I'm  game!  I'll  go!  I'll  do  my  part! — n' — Dr.  /  won't  cry," 
"Compared  to  livin'  on  like  this — an  operation's  pie?" 

Dey  took  me  to  de  Shriner's  place,  where  boys  'n'  girls  galore 
Kept  "smilin'  out"  in  bunches — a-makin'  room  fer  more. 
The  sadness — on  the  faces — o'  the  children — goin'  in 
Was    paid    for — ten    times    over — by    the    "outers'  "    full 
moon  grin. 

Dey  moved  me  off  o'  LIMPIN'  LANE, 
And,  "Oh  Boy!!  "Say!!  it's  so!! 
Dey  made  a  whole  world  playground 
Fer  cured-up — Cripple'  Joe. 
'N'  while  the  "Masons'  playground," 
To  some — may  seem  a  sin, 
Thank  God,  they  didn't  play  none 
When  they  took — this  cripple  in. 

— Shrine  Magazine,  "Crescent." 

53 


{From  a  Daddy  at  the  "San"  Battle  Creek,  Michigan,  to  his 
little  "Pal"  away  out  in  Kansas.) 

DEAR  LITTLE,  BIG  LITTLE  BOY  OF  MINE 

When  I  come  home  again,  won't  it  be  fine 

To  play  all  our  games,  race  up  the  front  stairs, 

Draw  pictures  of  elephants,  "spottards"  'n'  bears? 

My!  how  I  miss  you,  my  growin'-up  chum, 
An'  I'm  hopin'  'n'  prayin'  that  soon  I  may  come 
Back  to  our  home  with  its  evening  delight 
Of  snuggin'  you  up,  in  your  beddie,  love-tight. 


2^~ 


54 


For  it's  then  that  the  lions  'n'  "taggers"  both  grrrowl 
Away  down  your  neck,  a-makin'  you  howl 
With  delight,  because  ticklin's  "scarefully"  good — 
"Come,    grrrowl    again,    Daddy,    I    wisht  you  PLEASE 
would?" 

There's  something  quite  sacredly  up-liftin'  there, 
A-listenin'  while  softly  you're  sayin'  your  prayer, 
An'    if  life  holds  anything  purer  than  this, 
I  can  not  recall  it,  our  boist'rous  Night  Kiss. 

If  the  hours  have  been  tryin'  there's  no  better  pay 
Than  your  "Pleasant  Dreams!!  Daddy,  Goodnight!!"  end 

of  day, 
May  all  of  these  memories  always  be  thine — 
DEAR  LITTLE,  BIG  LITTLE  BOY  O'  MINE. 


— The  Insurance  Magazine. 


55 


Pioneering 


Starlight  fer  candlelight — 
Full  moon  fer  cheer; 
Buffaloes — to  look  at — 
Coyotes  to  hear; 
Wild  winds  to  talk  to, 
Indians  to  fear; 
It  took  a  heap  o'  courage— 
To  be  a  PIONEER. 


-Stamford  {Conn.)  Advocate. 


To  Our  Pioneers 

We're  payin'  our  Heart  Respects  today, 
To  the  fellow  who  DARED — who  paved  the  way; 
We're  thinkin' — too — of  his  lovin'  good  wife, 
Who  gave  him  the  courage  to  brave  the  strife. 
For  only  the  PIONEER  knows  the  pain 
O'  watchin  the  clouds  'n  prayin'  f'r  rain. 
'Tis  said — 'Tis  true — that  faith  in  God 
Alone— KEPT  PIONEERS  BREAKIN'  THE 
SOD. 

(Written  for  Mr.  E.  C.   Sams,  in  memory  of  his  father, 
Mr.  G.  L.  Sams.) 


56 


An  Appreciation 


'Tis  said  that  a  Mother's  Tears  of  Pain 
Turn  back  into  twinkling  stars  again, 
That  her  Wrinkles  of  Love — her  Furrows  of  Care 
Are  the  wagontracks  of  fervent  prayer. 

An  Indian  Legend  of  Long  Ago 

Says  "Mother's  smiles  forever  grow; 
"You'll  find  'em  in  pink — 'n'  white — 'n'  red 
11  Full  bloom — in  the  wild — wildflower  bed." 

An'  now,  when  the  buds  V  peepin'  out 
An'  the  grass  is  greenin' — all  about — 
'Tis  sacredly  sweet — in  balmy  May, 
To  commemorate  Our  Mother's  Day. 

I  somehow  love  to  see  men  wear 
Carnations — jes'  to  show  they  care; 
Cause  flowers  wild — er — flowers  tame 
Keep  bloomin   on — in  Mother  s  name. 

An'  sometimes — it  appears  to  me 
That  all  of  us — should — try  to  be 
More  thoughtful — patient — lovin'  'n'  true 
Fer  the  things  our  Mothers  plan  'n'  do. 

—SO— 
Ef  I  had  jes  one — of  every  kind 
O'  flower  that  grows — (that  I  could  find — ) 
All  hugged  up,  snugly,  in  my  strong  arms— 
Each  standin'  fer  love — good  luck — sweet  charms. 

An'  ef  I  were  a  King 

An'  had  my  say, 
'Twould  be  jes'  'bout  like  this-away: 
I'd  hustle  home  on  Mother's  Day — 

An'  give  My  Mother 

THE  WHOLE  BOUQUET. 

— Glendale  {Calif.)  Press. 


SI 


Real  Friends 

Don't  believe  th'  jes'  ain't  nothin\ 
I  c'n  recollect  at  all, 
Givin'  me  the  joys  I  get  from 
Seein'  pictures  on  the  wall. 

I  much  love  to  loaf  'n  listen  to  the  thoughts — 

that  flow  when  I 
Let  my  eyes  go  sparklin' — purty — at  the  paint- 

in's,  passin'  by; 
Kinda  thrillful  when  the  "looker"  gets  the  feel 

the  artist  felt 
Jes'  as  tints,  from  brush  to  canvas — through  the 

mind — began  to  melt; 
So  I  march  right  back  through  memory — lookin' 

long — at  works  of  art 
'Cause    each    picture    taught    me    something — 

eased  my  pathway — did  its  part. 

Still  believe  th'  jes'  ain't  nothin' 
Recollectable — at  all 
Givin'  me  the  joy  th't  comes  fr'm 
Seein'  pictures  on  our  wall. 

{All  because  of  Mrs.  Clubbs1  commendable  "hobby") 


58 


Our  Mother 

'Twas  loveful  and  kind,  thoughtful  and  right — 
— Heeding  a  life  wish  prayer — 
That  her  FINAL  PILLOW  be  fluffed  in  love, 
Out — on  the  prairies — there. 

"Back    Home":    How    she    always    longed    to 

return — 
Back — where  the  Cottonwood  trees 
Whispered  the  sweetest  stories 
Through  rustling — heartshaped  leaves. 

She  liked,  yes  loved,  the  East  and  the  West — 
Said  the  North  and  the  South  were  grand — 
But  her  children  "grew  up"  on  the  Buffalo  Grass 
And  so — you'll  understand — 

Why  we  laid  her  away — On  the  Prairie  Land; 
That's  where  she  "wanted — To  Rest," 
She  said — "Where  the  winds  were  friendly" — 
"Home— IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST." 


59 


Violets 

1  ma/  D©  Uda  basitfiil. 
oldtculiioneil...  Kinds  slow  ? 

1  may  be  Uda  auKiiiard 

a-lczjidiit'  Uda  Jouj.... 
JCiiit- romc&KoiU-  JW  Old  wiDEfcit". 
noio  lijten.!(...fer  ts  so. 
1  Ifinda  lilelblliiiiK  of  i)ou  ar  bGiit' 


6o 


( The  Governor  had  said,"  No  Christmas  paroles,  this  year."  At 
a  Christmas  Party,  for  Topeka  children,  an  eight  year  old 
boy  tugged  at  his  sleeve  and  heartstrings,  asking  permission 
to  tell  what  he  wanted  from  Santa  Clans.  "/  want  my  Mamma 
back"  he  pleaded.  "  IV here  is  she,  Sonny?"  "At  the  peni- 
tentiary" the  lad  sobbed,  and  the  Governor  swallowed  a 
lump,  hence:) 


Merry  Christmas  to  All 

Ef  I  had  the  power  to  give  back  to  two 

Little  Children — 

Fer  Christmas — 

THEIR  MOTHER, 
I'd  sign  that  Parole — I  would — By  Gum! 
Ef  I  never— pen-scrawled — another. 

Two  years  'r  too  many  f'r  Two  Little  Boys 

TO  SERVE 

Fer  their  Mother's 

Shop  Liftin' 
'Cause,  mebby  she  won't  seem  guilty — at  all — 
When  the  Sand  Dunes  o'  Justice  stop  shiftin'? 

When  we  get  at  the  Motive 
Deep  down — Hones'  True — 
Perhaps — (fer  two  children) 
WE  might  o'  stol'd,  too? 

So — be  a  real — Santa 
'N  "give  back"  their  Maw? 
I  b'leeve  God'll  bless  you 
Fer  temp'rin' — THE  LAW? 


61 


Thinkin7 

Jes  a  little  heartthrob — 

Jes  a  gentle  smile — 
Jes  a  little  longin' — 

Happy  all  the  while — 
Thinkin'  'bout  you — Sweetheart — 

Thinkin',  My!  how  fine 
'Twill  be  when  I  am  yours — 

My  Dear— 
N ' — you — are — mine. 

Little  stars  a-twinklin', 

Moon  a-burnin'  bright — 
'Pears  to  me  "God's  Canopy  of  Love" 

Was  made  jes'  right — 
Flowers  bloomin'  ev'rywhere 

Noddin'  at  me — too — 
Showin'  that  they  also  know 

How — I — Love — You — 

An'  when  I  go  day  dreamin' 

I  end  up  lover-bold 
A-wishin'  that — instead  o'  bein' 

Cluttered  up  with  Gold 
I'd  turn  into  a  Trellis, 

That  you  were  one  o'  those 
Sweet  flowers  growin'  clingfully 

A  BLUSHIN' 

RAMBLER 

ROSE. 


62 


You 

I'm  thinkin'  of  a  real  good  Friend 

Who  never  fails  to  do 

The  human,  little,  thoughtful  things 

That  keep  folks  "Smilin'  Through." 

It  mus'  be  mighty  comfortin' 

Jes'  amblin'  along 

A-thinkin'  things — n'  doin   'em 

For  others — All  Life  Long. 


Flowers  for  All 

Pretty  little  dandelion 

Stealin'  rays  of  sun, 

So  that  little  boys  and  girls — 

Poor — may  have  the  fun 

Of  pickin'  you — in  handfuls; 

Everybody  knows 

That  while  you  look  jes'  like  a  weed? 

Really!!  you're  a  Rose! 


Our  Guest 

WELCOME!!  GOOD  OLD  FRIEND  OF  OURS— 
SMILE  AN'— LINGER  ALONG; 
YOU'RE  NOT  COMPANY  'ROUN'  THIS  HOME, 
YOU  JES'— KINDA— B'LONG. 

— Rust  Craft,  Publishers,  Boston. 
63 


Queer  Old  Jim 

He's  never  made  much  money 
N'  he  isn't  much  on  looks 
But  he  knows  a  heap  'bout  human  nature 
<f|j.     Never  found  in  books. 

He  has  a  sorta  dreamin'  habit — 
Lookin'  far  away! 
A-smilin'  at  the  thoughts  belongin' 
To  another  dau. 

I'm  thinkin' — though — ef  we  judge  men 

By  what  theu  say  n'  do 

That  he'll  stack  up  jes'  'bout  as  high 

As  Bill — er  me — er  you? 

'Cause — while  he  isn't  perfect — 

They's  jes'  this  much  'bout  Jim, 

He  likes  the  kids — the  cats  'n  the  dogs 

'N  they  all  worship  him. 

— Courtesy  Abilene  (Kans.)  Daily  Reflector 


64 


Discipline 


Stern  Father  had  said — to  his  sons — Ralph  n'  Frank, 
"Now  listen  to  me:  Fer  doin'  that  prank" 
"You're  gonna  git  punished,  I  know  what  I'll  do" 

I'll  make  you  remember,  I'll  try  something  new." 

Then — knowing  his  own  inclination  that  way?? 

He  said:  "No  more  candy  for  you — today" 
"I  think  that'll  strengthen  your  memory — best — " 

You  c'n  play  with  the  box — n'  imagine  the  rest?" 


Temptation  to  "peep"  in  the  playroom  grew  strong 
'Cause  both  Ralph  and  Frank  were  bubblin'  in  song; 
There  sat  the  bold  culprits — a-makin'  the  best 
Of  Daddy's  fool  scheme — The  Memory  Test? 
While  Frank  was  enjoying  the  "smell"  of  the  lid 
Young  Ralph  had  to  wait  "his  turn" — poor  kid! 
Impatient,  at  last — he  pleaded — this  plea: 
"I  wisht  you'd  please  hurry — n'  " 

"SMELL  IT  TO  ME." 

So  parents,  remember — when  punishing  boys 
There's  no  standard  method  of  squelchin'  their  joys, 
'Cause  they  c'n  imagine — n'  they  c'n  p'etend — 
An'  they  usually — have — "their  way" — in  the  end. 


65 


The  Blazed  Trail 

The  Road  to  Success  is  'way  over  there — 

The  Pathway  o'  Peace — right  here; 

You  c'n  follow  their  markers  n'  not  get  lost 

More  n'  once  er  twice  a  year. 

The  Big  White  Way  has  a  powerful  pull 

On  the  people  who  like  to  meet 

A  restless  throng — jes  shovin'  along — 

While  driftin' — down  Main  Street. 

You  c'n  follow  'em  all  as  fur  's  you  please 

There's  only  one  lane  fer  me, 

I  c'n  see — right  where — they're  blazin'  it 

Down  past  our  Cottonwood  Tree. 

It's  a  wee  little  path  a-winding  along 

(It's  wabbly — clear  from  the  start) 

But  I  know,  from  its  countless  footprints 

That  it  leads  to  MY  little  boy's  heart. 


66 


Visitors 

w      It's  strange — but  true — that 

friendly  flowers 
Always  do  their  part 
A-finger  printin'  soul  ?n  thought 
A-flutterin?  up  the  heart; 
They  come  a-breathin'  to  your 

room — 
They  nod — 'n  laugh — ;n  say — 
The  sweetest  little  nothings 
Then  go — their  fragrant  way. 


67 


The  Circuit  Rider 

{Written  for  the  Retired  Ministers'  Fund) 

I'm  thinking  of  the  hardships  Our  Preacher  Pioneer, 

In  rough  n'  rugged  service,  encountered  year  on  year — 

He'd  "buckboard"  when  the  roads  were  good,  he'd  horseback  when 

too  rough, 
Then  walk  (a-lettin'  horse  stay  home)  when  storms  made  goin'  tough. 


He  never  found  a  task  so  great,  a  day  er  road  so  bad 

That  it'd  interrupt  his  plan  o'  makin'  people  glad: 

He'd  let  his  hair  play  with  the  winds — a  holdin'  forehead  high — 

An'  hum  a  hymn,  er  lullaby — in  smiles — while  passing  by. 


He'd  often  hafta  "head  in" — nights — jes'  where  the  darkness  came 
But  buff'lo  grass  er  feather  beds,  to  him,  were  'bout  the  same. 
You  know  when  man  sleeps  out  o'  doors  his  slumber-thoughts  turn  grand 
With  head  a-restin',  trustful  like,  on  pillow  of  God's  hand. 


N'  when  you  stop  to  think  about — this  pioneering  life 
You  gotta  "give  it"  to  those  folks  fer  stickin'  to  the  strife. 
They  say  most  folks,  in  Life's  program,  hold  money  for  their  goal 
But  this  man  jes'  kep'  pluggin'  on — to  save  another  soul. 


Our  worker,  now,  is  slowin'  down,  he's  growin'  kinda  old, 

His  days  'r  gettin'  numbered — his  story's  well  nigh  told: 

N'  speakin'  'bout  this  Grand  Old  Man  (fer  that's  jes'  what  he  is) 

Let's  not  forget  her — bless  her  heart — that  Dear  Old  Wife  o'  His. 


Fer  we  all  know  when  Heaven  pays,  full  price,  fer  what  we  do, 
The  wife  of  our  good  minister'll  occupy  a  pew 
Way  up  in  front — all  cushioned  soft — a-givin'  her  the  rest, 
She's  earned,  full  ten  times  over,  fer  helpin'  save  the  West. 


68 


My  eyes  somehow  gets  blurry  a-thinkin'  o'  the  days 
When  they  wuz  raisin'  children,  a-workin'  hard — always — 
Not  knowin'  what  their  salary  wuz  er  what  they'd  have  to  eat, 
Er  where  the  wood  wuz  comin'  from  to  make  next  winter's  heat. 


I've  know'd  'em,  fer  a  whole  long  year — to  get  their  pay  in  such 
As  neighbors  cared  to  "bring  in" — ('twant  never  very  much) 
But  somehow,  God  kept  watchin'  'em,  n'  never  let  'em  get 
Plum  tired  of  their  bargain — He'd  send  a  violet, 

In  spring,  to  cheer  the  mother — n'  she'd  cheer  up  the  rest 
N'  then  they'd  all  get  laughin' — a-servin'  God  out  West. 
It's  funny  how  a  little  thing,  a-bloomin   in  the  sod, 
C'n  be  a  great  big  sentence  in  a  message  straight  from  God. 


I'm  showin'  you  this  story  old,  in  pictures  homely,  crude, 

Believin'  that  they'll  put  you  in  a  comfortable  mood, 

'Cause  now  we  have  a  right  smart  chance  to  show  our  Pioneers 

In  gold,  jes'  what  we  think  of  them,  fer  weatherin'  long,  lean  years. 


They've  earned  much  more  than  we  c'n  pay — more  comforts,  far,  than 

grow, 
So  let's  "shell  out"!  Let's  build  a  home  for  both  of  them — "Let's  go"! 
In  summing  up — "financially" — I'm  standing  here  to  say 
NO   MINISTER  I   EVER   KNEW   GOT   MUCH   MORE— THAN 

HALF  PAY. 

— The  Oregon  Statesman. 


69 


Al 


one 


I  long  to  be  alone — at  times — 

For  then  my  thoughts  unfold — in  rhymes; 

Alone  where  leaves,  in  banter,  play 
Cadenzas  sweet  on  zephyrs  gay. 

An  orchestra  of  birds  and  bees, 
I  quite  enjoy — in  Room  of  Trees 
With  ceiling  blue  and  mountain  high, 
Frescoed  in  clouds  soft-rolling  by. 

There  come  old  friends,  my  tho'ts  to  share, 
Old  dreams — old  joys — the  silent  prayer. 

Quite  all  alone?  No — 'tis  not  odd! 
I  love  to  be  alone 

WITH  GOD. 


70 


To  Sir  Harry: 


When  my  heart  is  achin' 
'N  the  world's  full  sad 
You  r-r-roll  a  few  r-r-'s 
'N  my  thoughts  burn  glad. 
You're  the  "sortova,  kindova" 
Man — I  love, 
'Cause  always  'n  ever 
You  shoulder  'n  shove 
At  my  load,  when  heavy, 
Then  skies  turn  blue; 
Sir  Harry,  Thank  God 
Fer  a  "mon"  like  you. 

— John  Eberhardt. 


{After  an  auto  trip — -five  hours  short — across 
the  buffalo  grass  plains  of  Kansas,  this:) 


Dear  Friend: 

The  blue  sky  was  high 

And  the  weather  was  dry 

When  we  started  this  morning  at  ten, 

It  just  proves  what  I  say 

One  may  meet  every  day 

A  man  who's  a  Man  Among  Men. 

— Harry  Lauder. 


7i 


Charles  Moreau  Harger,  Editor  of  the  Abilene  "Reflector" 
said: 

"Your  writin'  is  so  funny 

And  you  say  such  boojul  things 
It  always  makes  my  heart  go  thump 
When  mail  your  missive  brings. 
I  wish  that  I  could  think  a  verse 
All  full  of  thrills  like  you; 
I  can't — so  just  a  kindly  wish 
For  all  of  '22." 


When  the  article  about  these  poems  appeared  in  the  January 
1923,  American,  John  M.  Siddall,  the  Editor,  wrote: 

"Thanks  for  your  fine  letter  about  our  January 
sketch.  While  "Chummates"  is  a  corking  little 
poem,  I  believe  I  like  "The  Corduroy  Breeches" 
best  of  all.  You  certainly  have  a  very  human 
touch.^ 


Too  Busy? 


I  asked  two  rabbits  would  they  lay — 
Four  Easter  eggs  for  you  today? 
And  this  is  what  they  said:  "Nay!  Nay!" 
We  kinda,  hasta — wantsta — PLAY." 

(And  so,  I'm  sending — flowers.) 

— Courtesy  Rust  Craft  Publishers,  Inc.,  Boston. 


T~ 


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